


Where'd I be Without My Blogger?

by Krayolacolor



Series: Creepypasta x Readers [3]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Creepypasta x Reader - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Obsession, Reader-Insert, interconnected story, part of a series, reader runs a tumblr blog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29634795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krayolacolor/pseuds/Krayolacolor
Summary: You have always been fascinated with the mind of the murderer, but what happens when You find one in Your house? When he doesn't kill You? When he becomes obsessed with the idea of You? What will You do when the consequences of Your actions catch up to You?
Relationships: Jeffrey Woods | Jeff the Killer/Reader
Series: Creepypasta x Readers [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177397
Kudos: 10





	1. How you Meet

**Author's Note:**

> Just like the other stories, first & second were written by a child and the rest are better.
> 
> Key:  
> (y/n) = your name, (f/c) = favorite color, (h/c) = hair color, (y/i) = your initials

“It’s midnight…” You say as you stare at your bright laptop screen in the darkness of your room, but you know you can’t sleep until you find the truth. Newspaper clippings line the wall above your desk, pictures litter the floor, and energy drink cans cover the desktop. 

“(Y/n) you haven’t slept in two days.” You tell yourself as you skim another article on the recent string of murders in town. All of them are the same, victims have multiple knife wounds, no fingerprints are left anywhere though it’s clear that the killer has touched things in every house, “Go To Sleep” is always scrawled on the walls in blood.

“How is this possible?” You ask yourself, the killings are clearly amateur and very messy, but the killer can’t be found or traced and it’s physically paining you. The mind of murderers had always fascinated you so that’s the topic you chose for both your journalism and psychology class projects.

You angrily slam your computer shut and push your chair back. “I’ll work on it tomorrow…” You tell yourself as you get ready for bed and some much needed sleep. You don't bother changing, instead you fall face first into your (f/c) sheets, as soon as your head hits the pillow you’re out.

A few hours later a loud crash pulls you from sleep. Since your parents are out of the house for the weekend you know it isn’t them, so you grab the taser from your nightstand drawer and walk down stairs towards the kitchen where the sound came from.

You flick the light switch and gasp at the sight in front of you, dropping the taser. A boy, no older than you stands frozen in the middle of your kitchen. His black hair covers his face, but you can clearly see he is almost as pale as his probably once white, now blood stained, hoodie.

“This is the killer? For real? He can’t be any older than me, basically a kid.” You say out loud, not particularly impressed, forgetting that you’re no longer alone.

“Kid? Killer? No ya’ve got me all wrong, girl. I’m this world’s fuckin savior.” The boy whispers just loud enough for you to hear as he turns to you, his dark eyes unblinking and his mouth cut into a permanent smile.

That’s when you notice the smashed plate on the floor and the sandwich on the table. You raise your eyebrows questioningly at the boy, “Really? You made yourself a sandwich?” You ask in bewilderment. 

The boy just shrugs, “I gotta eat too.” The killer sits on your table and grabs the sandwich, taking a bite. “Since I’m such I’m great person and you’re not screamin or freakin out because I’m in your house, I’m gonna let ya live.” He says as he eats.

“Wow, I’m so grateful.” You say sarcastically walking into the hall. “I’m calling the cops.”

“I wouldn’t if I was you.” The killer says as he, unknowingly to you, grabs a knife from the knife rack. 

“And why is that?” You ask picking up the house phone. A knife imbeds itself in the wall an inch from your face making you drop the phone.

“Because next time, I won’t miss.” The boy says smirking in the doorway. He walks over to you and pulls the knife from the wall as you back away. ”Now I like you girly, ya got…” He snaps his fingers trying to think of the word, “Spunk! Ya got spunk and I like that, but try somethin like that again and I’ma slit your throat, okay?” He asks twirling the knife in between his pale fingers.

That’s when it hits you, this guy is a killer and you could talk to him. Your entire paper was standing in front of you waiting to be answered. 

“Can we talk?” You ask smiling at the slightly taller boy. The killer raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t reject the offer. You run and grab a notebook and pencil. You then grab his arm and basically drag him into the living room.

“So can we start with your name?” You ask, “I don’t want to keep just referring to you as “The Killer” in my head.” You say.

He laughs, “Well ya got that part right, I’m Jeff, Jeff the Killer. And who might ya be girly?” Jeff asks.

“Well fair, is fair, I guess, I’m (Y/n). Thanks for not killing me.” You respond.

The two of you talk and you take notes until the sun starts to rise. The paper you're writing on starts to blur in and out and Jeff’s voice becomes soft. At about noon you wake up in your bed, your notebook lying on your nightstand. For a moment you think that maybe it was just a dream, you quickly flip through your notebook finding all your notes and finally a last note covers the last page in the book. A message is scribbled on the page with terrible handwriting. 

_“HaD fUn tAlkiNg laSt NigHt (y/N), i’ll Drop bY aGaiN sOOn. -Jeff the Killer”_

You smile a bit. _He’s not such a bad guy…_ You think closing the notebook and getting up to start your project again.


	2. Are We Friends Yet?

It has been weeks since you first saw Jeff and he seems to have disappeared after he left your house. 

“No killings, no mysterious disappearances, no nothing! What happened?” You ask yourself as you sit typing away at a new blog post from your laptop in the living room. Both of your parents are at work and you have the day off school. You have nothing better to do so you are once again going over the information you learned from the Killer and wondering where he was and what he was doing. That was basically your blog.

At about eleven in the morning a knocking is heard at the door. You get off the couch, sitting your computer on the coffee table, and smooth out your shirt and jeans.

You open the door and are greeted with a wide smile and dark eyes.

“Hey girly, how ya been? I’m starvin we should order pizza!” The loud mouth killer says pushing past you and into the house.

You just stare dumbfounded as he walks into the kitchen grabbing a drink from the fridge and plops down on the couch before tossing his bloody hoodie over the arm leaving him in his black jeans and dark grey t-shirt.

For a moment you both just watch each other intently waiting for the other to make the first move into the situation.

“Wha-what are you doing here Jeff?” You ask finally from the doorway of your living room.

“Don’t play dumb with me, (Y/n). I know ya’ve missed me, I watch your blog.” He smirks nodding to your laptop.

You sigh, of course he was keeping tabs on you, you talked to him long enough to learn he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t leave fingerprints because he didn’t have any to leave, burned off. He wasn’t amateur either, he just preferred to seem that way. You knew very well if Jeff wanted you dead you’d be dead, yet the psychopathic killer seems to want to keep you around and to do that of course he would want to know what you were doing and who you were telling about him. He would need to make sure he could shut you up if you started talking. 

That knowledge had you terrified, but also excited, you just have to know how his mind worked.

“Sooo, about that pizza?” Jeff asks after a few minutes of silence.

You roll your eyes and go get the phone. “What do you like on your pizza?” You ask as you dial the number and walk back into the room.

“I’m not picky, whatever ya like girly. I just gotta say first ya should order two, haven’t eaten in two,” He pauses thinking, “yeah, two or three days, lost track.”

Your jaw drops, “What! How do you even-” He cuts you off.

“Hey, murder isn’t a high payin job, I don’t just steal things either, I eat what I can here and there, ya learn to live with it.” Jeff says as if it was all nothing.

Before you can say anything the phone picks up and you have to place your order.

The wait feels like nothing as you both are settled on the couch watching Netflix, his legs propped on the coffee table, your legs over his as you are leaning back onto the arm of the couch. It was as if you had known him all your life and this was just another movie night. You couldn’t quite understand how you felt so comfortable with this killer, but that didn’t change the fact that you did.

The doorbell sounds through the house, “I got it.” You say getting up and grabbing your wallet.

A few minutes later you are back on the couch with Jeff eating pizza and commenting back and forth on why the horror movie you both had decided to watch was unrealistic and stupid.

Time keeps ticking by, but you hardly notice. The pizza boxes empty and the movies slip by, but you both are caught in the moment, just talking. Hours upon hours later you notice the sun is setting, and so does Jeff.

He stands up, “Well I’d love to stay longer, (Y/n), but I gotta hit the road.” Jeff says stretching before grabbing his hoodie.

Something inside you feels disappointed, sad that you can’t keep talking to him.

“Besides girly, ya parents will be home any minute and I can’t let ‘em see me, I’d have to kill ‘em.” He laughs quietly. “I’ve learned that upsets girls.” He breaks out into full on hysterical laughter tears falling from his eyes.

You stare at him, confused.

“Okay, okay, I’m goin! I will see ya soon, (Y/n)... promise.” He says over his shoulder as he walks towards the door.

“Bye Jeff…” You whisper after you hear the door close.

You take to spending the next few minutes cleaning up the living room and finish just as your parents walk through the door.


	3. I Think I'm F-Falling For You

It’s starting to get cold outside, fall coming in full swing. It’s late and you are typing up a new blog post, ‘Anatomy of the Kill’ Jeff gives you pictures sometimes so you were basing the descriptions off them.

It should be gross, or repulsive, it should make your stomach turn, you should want to report him, not hold your tongue. Not blog about it. Not ask for pictures and descriptions and dates and details and targets. But maybe you are just as messed up as Jeff, maybe you wouldn’t actually kill anyone, but you wanted to know why, wanted to know how. 

Twisted curiosity keeping you from morality.

There’s a knock on your window, you turn your head, brushing your (h/c) hair from your face. Jeff waves from the windowsill. You jump up, notes and pictures falling to the floor as you pick your way across your room.

“What the hell Jeff? It’s two in the morning!” You exclaim as the boy scrambles into the room, a gust of cold air following him. You close the window quickly.

Jeff shivers, “Sorry, (Y/n), it’sa little cold outside, I thought it'd be cool if I popped in an' spent the night?” He asks, teeth chattering as he rubs his hands together trying to warm up. You notice a few new stains on his hoodie. “I got ya some more pictures…” he says quieter after a minute of silence.

You feel a little bad suddenly, that Jeff thought he had to bribe you to let him out of the cold. “No, no- it's okay,” You say quickly, “you can stay, you just need to stay in here, my parents would kill me if they found out I let a boy in my room in the middle of the night.”

Jeff chuckles slightly, pulling a handful of new Polaroids from his hoodie pocket and holding them out. “Girly, I think that’s not what ya should be worryin’ ‘bout if your parents find me in here.”

You swallow thickly, taking the pictures from Jeff, walking around him to your desk, flipping through them, gruesome scenes of death, some of them have Jeff in them, sticking his tongue out, holding up his knife. You hum, holding one up so Jeff can see, “You didn't put a name on this one, who was she?” You ask.

Jeff looks at the picture of the blonde girl, her hair stained red around her scalp, her eyes dead. “She had your name, but I don't think she was half as nice as ya, (Y/n).” Jeff hummed, sitting on your bed. You look at the picture for another moment, and set it down with the rest.

“You hungry?” You ask, looking over at him, he looked innocent in a weird way, he looked like he was young and bold and wild, like you could take off the hoodie and comb back his hair and he'd be any other kid. “How often do you recut the smile?” You ask impulsively.

“Uh, yeah, I could eat, but why ya ask?” Jeff tilts his head.

“Well, given the build up of scar tissue you let it heal over before cutting it again, at least a little. The cuts are clean, but the jagged scarring around it suggests it was messy the first time you did it, and the wounds are clearly self inflicted, you do it to yourself. From the looks they are starting to scab over at the ends, but because you move your mouth to talk and eat the parts closest to your lips never heal properly, and they bleed given the staining on your skin and the blood on the corners of your mouth….” You stop, blushing softly, “I'm going to get food…” You mutter and go to the kitchen.

When you get back Jeff has made himself a bed of the floor, with your extra blanket and a pillow. “Once a month, sometimes more.” He says, looking up at you, his hoodie on the floor along with his sneakers, his legs crossed under him. Still he takes the sandwich from you, eating it.

You nod, “Why?”

“Because it hurts, an' if I don't I feel like I can't be happy. I can't stop smilin' or I'll forget why I'm smilin'. I have a mission, I have to set them free, or they won't be happy either.” Jeff explains between chewing.

“Why didn't you kill me then?”

Jeff stops eating, setting the plate down, “Because, (Y/n), you're like me. Ya want them to know, ya want them to see, they gotta open their eyes. You're openin' their eyes, just like me.” Jeff smiles, it pulls at the cuts, but it's okay.

Your chest flutters. “Goodnight Jeff…” You say and flip the light off.

“Goodnight, girly.” He chuckles.


	4. CrushCrushCrush

Jeff returns to stay the night more often as it gets colder. Usually in the middle of the night, so you leave your window unlocked and sometimes when you wake up, there is a killer passed out on your floor. You get another blanket next time you go to the mall, thicker so the floor won't be so hard. Jeff doesn't mention it, but you can tell he's getting comfortable, and well, so are you. You leave your window open expecting a known killer to come into your room at night, that sounds pretty comfortable.

He leaves pictures on your messy desk if he leaves before you wake up, or after you go to school, of the killings he's done recently. While going over the pictures for a new blog post you notice something peculiar…

In the background of a few pictures there is what seems to be letters. You put all the pictures with letters in a box so that you can keep track of them. You try to ask Jeff about them, but he denies them.

Jeff still leaves pictures for you at night, whenever he comes by, and they add up quickly. They almost look like carefully crafted art projects, that Jeff made just for you, that he posed in front of proudly while brandishing his weapon before the carnage behind him. You know you should feel something sickening about them, but really, it's almost cute to you. It's not too many more pictures before you have everything to unscramble and soon it's a message.

_"I think you're pretty ♡"_

You snort once you put it together, and you stand over Jeff who was asleep on the floor, arm thrown over his eyes, snoring. "Hey, Jeff." You poke him with your foot, after checking to be sure his knife wasn't in his hands as you've seen him wake up and slash without a thought. He's ruined several of your pillows.

Jeff jumps, and squeaks loudly, his eyes focusing as he wakes up. He yawns, "Girly, what time 's it? Why ya wakin' me?"

You smirk and stick a sticky-note to his forehead before going back over to your desk. Jeff grumbles at you as he pulls it off looking at what you wrote.

_I think you're pretty too, dumbass._

Jeff makes a high squeaky noise and you turn away from your new post to look at him blushing like a fool, then, "Hey, I'm not a dumbass!"

"Then say it to my face." You say with your arms crossed.

Jeff pouts, like a child, refuses to look at you, but quietly he mutters, "I think you're pretty…"

You smile softly, "Thanks Jeff." You turn back to your work and hear the window open.

"I have some work to do, Girly, I should head out." He says.

"Off to go murder for me?" You ask cheekily.

Jeff laughs, "Nah, boss asked me to get shit done last night, but I got lazy, he's gonna be pissed when he finds out I've been leaving notes at my kills."

You blink, "You didn't tell me you had a boss?" You say turning to look at Jeff who was sitting half out the window.

"How else do ya think I travel so often? Three of those letters were almost four hundred miles away. And I'm actually working a few states away, I only popped in to spend the night before I'm shipped off again." Jeff explains.

"So wait, who do you work for? You said you didn't get paid to kill people." You say confused.

Jeff looks away from you, "Okay, don't go bloggin' about it or anythin', but you know about Slenderman, right?" You nod. "Well, he's gotta lot of us workin' for him, but I'm not supposed to tell."

"So… Slenderman is real…?"

"Yes."

"And you work for him?"

"Yes."

"And there are more like you?"

"Sorta, I think the closest is Jackie, but he's not exactly the same. None of us are."

You hum, "So, you work with a bunch of other murderers?"

Jeff scrunched his nose at you, "No you can't meet 'em, they 'ill kill you." And with that Jeff disappeared from your window. You sigh softly, turning back to look at the open blog page and the pictures sitting around your desk of gruesome murders. You smile, and start working, you had so much to learn still.


	5. Heart to Heart

Over the next week or two you manage to get Jeff to tell you about the other killers he works with so you can take notes on them. He only tells you about a few, but it's enough for you to scour the internet and find more things about them. You find more news reports and articles written about various other murderers and happily add this information to your notes on Jeff as well.

You learn their styles and traits and signatures as well as you know Jeff's, but there will always be pieces missing in your notes because you don't know them. Jeff won't let you talk to them.

You stare at your computer screen one night as the realization dawns on you that Jeff was keeping you away from them to protect you. Jeff knew how easily your head was swallowed up with curiosity and then you threw yourself into the fire because you had to know. 

A blush rises up in your face as you hunch up your shoulders against this new information. You start typing quickly. A new post for your blog.

_**A Heart to Kill** _

**By: Stringboardevidence(y/i)**

The Killer is easily brought to obsession. He is a collector of things, ideas that he uses as a comfort in his long and cold nights that are spent wandering towards his next work of art, his kill. This has made him lonely, I see it in the lines on his face, the shape of his shoulders, and the smile he forces on his face again and again. The Killer has made attempts to hide this information from me, as if he thought he could hide anything from me when he has opened up so much in our short time together.

He is afraid. He fears rejection, he fears his own control over his urge to become obsessed with me. He fears his obsession. He isn't good at hiding it.

The growing numbers of names on his list that belong to me is staggering. He goes out of his way to erase them, get rid of them as if by the nature of them having my name makes them competition. He thinks that it will scare me, it doesn't. I have never been afraid of him, only fascinated by his drive, his mind, his passion for his mission, his art. My Killer creates art for me, he paints murals and sunsets and oceans with blood, he is excited to show me his work, to gain approval for his masterpiece. I give it gladly.

I think, maybe I am insane too, that I look at him and see the most human boy I've ever met, the most caring and driven one in my life. He is a killer, a murderer, the way he takes life as if it means nothing to him, but it does. Life is so precious to him, so important, a gift. He tells me the world is blind to it, that no one understands the way he does how important living is, how being alive is our blessing. So he kills. Life is limited, and many don't grasp their time with it, it can be cut short at any moment, so live.

It's beautiful, his mind, his vision of the world. It's breathtaking. I'm constantly awed by him. My Killer. I wish I could tell him that, that he shouldn't fear himself, that I am not afraid of him. I should tell him his art is beautiful, I should remind him he fears because he cares, he doesn't want to be obsessed because he doesn't wish to hurt me.

Are you reading this Killer?

Do you really think that I would push you away after what you've already shown me?

Do you think I don't care?

You want to protect me, from the others, from yourself, don't.

I already trust you.

It is a few days after you post that blog that Jeff comes knocking in your window. You yawn, it's late, but switch on your bedside lamp before pushing off the covers to go unlock the window. Your parents must have locked it. You push open the window for Jeff and turn to grab him the blankets in the closet so he can sleep but Jeff stops you.

"I can't stay girly." Jeff says, rubbing the back of his head.

You look back at him, holding a pillow, "What?"

Jeff doesn't look at you, "I gotta job nearby, but I wanted to check in. And I uh…" You raise an eyebrow, "I saw your post… I wanted to say somethin sooner, I just had shit to do… and I…" Jeff looks up at you and he seems confused for a moment. "Thank you…"

You smile, laughing a little, "You don't need to thank me, I just wanted you to know."

Jeff nods, and blushes and looks away from you again, "I uh… can uh, we um…" he opens his arms half way and looks up unsure.

You resist rolling your eyes and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing tight. Jeff goes stiff a moment then hugs you back tightly, pressing his face into your shoulder and gripping the back on your sleep shirt. The two of you stay there a few moments before Jeff let's go, seeming to relax after. "Bye Girly." He smiled and moved back to the window.

"Bye Jeff." You say with a smile and wave as he slips out the window.


End file.
